Open My Eyes
by ElledeBelle
Summary: Eleanor has a vague memory of a place of magic that her mother told her about. She takes her chances when she recieves a yellowed envelope with green inked letters and an offer she can't refuse inside...
1. Chapter 1

Please excuse any lack of word, misspellings, missuse of frases and/or words and so on - I'm Swedish.

All characters, enviroments and eventual magic are Co. J. K. Rowling and taken from or inspired by her series about Harry Potter.

She stood outside the giant gate, gazing upon the large emblem of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, with a puzzled look upon her face. The pooring rain made her eyes flicker and caused her to relax her neck and stare straight ahead again, through the bars and over to the breathtaking grasslands which stretched all the way up the hill to the castle.

In her left hand she still held a firm grip of the letter she had received not one week ago. The envelope was slightly yellowed and green ink wrote her name in flourihed letters that spelled:

Ms. Eleanor Iceleaf,  
47 Red Valley,  
Second Door at the White House with the Blue Knots,  
Sweden

Apparently the postman had had no difficulty reading English, because it had ended up in her mailbox just the same, giving her more than one reason to ponder about why Katty hadn't mentioned it when they saw eachother at the postoffice only hours later. After reading the letter inside she got other things to ponder about, though.

"Dear Ms. Iceleaf,

it has come to my notice that we have overseen your existence for quite some time and for that I am truly sorry. Now that you have come of age according to the muggle (non-magic people) laws of your country and decided to change your last name to the one of your mother, Susanna, finding you became much easier for me. 

Though you are too old to restart school I am still willing to make amends - I might have an offer for you." ...

The letter continued explaining the strange disappearance of one Mr. Dellowberry that had something to do with a couple of ferrets and a fierce prank that either went very wrong or, -"rather likely", as the author put it-, very well. Either way the letter ended:

... "I am sending you this ticket for the Hogwarts Express that will leave King's Cross Station in London at the end of the holidays. Date and time will be printed on your ticket. Feel free to use it if you are intressted in my suggestion.

Albus Dumbledore,   
headmaster.

PS.  
And do please bring Zider, she is most welcome, just as you are."

At first she had had no idea of what the letter ment or who this Dumbledore could be, or if he was even serious. Had she not been serching her mind for any sign of explaination at all, the thought of her mother would never have come to her. "Susanna". That's what he had written. Not "Susan", wich had been her mothers name as long as she could remember. "Susanna Iceleaf", she knew, had left Britan for "Susan Happi" and the less reknown and markably more sufficient Sweden. And than it was that other thing ... The magic thing.

Before she had decided anything she found her self packed up, with Zider in her cage, handing a set of keys to a fish-feeding-flower-watering-soon-to-be-partying-all-night younger cousin and ready to go. The flight had been quick and smooth enough, but finding platform 9 3/4 had been worse. It wasn't until a sweet girl with jet black braids had asked her if she was trying to find the Hogwarts Express and guided her through the pillar, that it actually struck her what she was about to do. Or rather, what she could be doing. She didn't know all the details of her precense there at the school, after all, but she had still left without a doubt. Well, without thirtyfour doubts, to be honest, and the first thirtythree where all the same: am I doing the right thing leaving? 

"You must be Ms. Iceleaf, I presume?"

The hoarse voice shoke her into presence again and she looked upon a grave, pale man at the other side of the bars, all dressed in black robes. Afraid that her wide, blue eyes would seem fit to light up a UFO, she rapidly looked away from his harsh gaze.

"Yes...yes, I am. Are you professor Hagrid?"

"I most certainly am not."

The hinge creaked as he opened the gate, but his face hadn't shown a slightest emotion other than great discomfort. She waited a moment for him to introduce himself with his proper name, but when the introduction never came she knelt down and grabbed her bags. He apparently took this as a sign of her being redy to verture up the hill to the castle, for he stood aside and let her enter the grounds, closing the gate behind her.

"The headmaster wants to see you straight away. Follow me."

She followed his black shape, having to nearly run to keep up with his haste to escape the rain, and that was no easy task to try to do uphill, with two stuffed bags and a catcage. Zider didn't sound very pleased about the situation either.

She had been given directions that all of her shopping would be taken care of when she had arrived at the school, so she had done nothing to swop her jeans and jacket that she now wore to something less ... common - something that had made her feel strangely exposed at the train. Well off it, all of the students had swiftly put themselfs in what seemed like enginedriven carts not to suffer the rain to badly, while she her self had stood still awaiting a certain professor Hagrid which, the headmaster had written, should come to meet her. After scarcely half an hour of waiting she had grabbed her bags to start walking towards the castle by her self, feeling rather anxious about this new but not completely strange world. This grave-looking, black striped bookworm was not what she had expected to see in a world of magic.

The castle walls were filled with pictures of every sizes, and inside the frames the different characters moved and talked, either to eachother or to the occasional students that crossed their way. She had only seen a fraction of the wonders that are Hogwarts Castle when they suddenly stoped in front of an ugly-looking statue.

"Liquorice pipe."

Before she had even a chance of giving her guide a sceptical glance the statue and wall moved. Without any explanation he himself stepped up upon a step of a, what would show, spiral staircase; a movement she quickly imitated. She followed the stairs movement til the top, where a massive wooden door were and on which they were about to knock.

"Come in, come in, by all means! I've been expection you."

The words came from the other side of the door so her guide let down his hand and turned the handle.

A wide, circle room came into veiw, and because it was showered with the most remarkable things and furnitures all along the walls she had a hard time discovering the bearded headmaster sitting in his chair behind a large, heavy desk.

"Thank you, Severus."

The blackdressed man nodded, went out and closed the door with a sneer look upon his face. She took the liberty of putting down her lugage; she was soaking wet from carrying it all the way from the station in the rain and around her feet had a moist spot started to grow.

"I am sorry no one came to meet you at the station. Hagrid had a small distraction to take care of which I just heard of, and so I had little time to assamble someone else to fetch you. Luckily professor Snape volunteered."

The old man had risen from the chair and was now standing opposite her with his hand outstreched for her to grab.

"I am Albus Dumbledore, headmaster here a Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and you, I belive, are my new Muggle Studies teacher, professor Eleanor Iceleaf."

A bit awkward about her new title she smiled and let out a short laughter before she shook his hand.

"Yes, that ought to be me. It is nice to finally meet you, headmaster."

"Ah, your English is excellent. I was afraid that would be a problem, but it seems we have nothing to worry about."

A comforting smile reached her from the innerst of his white, overwhelming beard. As the well-mannered girl she has been broght up to be she smiled back, but in her mind she kept wondering how he could mean that their largest obstacle could be a rosty pronunciation, when she in fact knew no magic at all and very little about everything else at this side of the mirror.

"Pleased to meet you too, and welcome to Hogwarts, professor.", he smiled. 


	2. Chapter 2

They walked down the hall and he showed her through a door.

"This was professor Dellowberry's quarters when he stayed here and because he left with such short notice you will find that all of his books conserning the subject are still in their shelves.You may use them as you please."

She walked by the headmasters side as he showed her a small but fully adequate room that was dominated by a four-poster bed and three heavily overwhelmed bookshelves. There were also a plain writing desk, a padded stool and a humble drawer in the same cherry wood as the bed. Through an opened door to the left she could even catch a glimps of a small bathroom. Her eyes were drawn to the single window from which the late afternoon light poored in and showered the bed in fireing prismas.

"It's wonderful!"

The comment had left her lips before she could stop her self and so she stoped and turned towards the smiling headmaster.

"I mean, I'll have no trouble at all comeing to ease here, headmaster Dumbledore. This is more than enough. Truly."

"Yes, I would imagine. And do adress me as "professor". Or "Albus", by all means. I don't like to put myself apart from my colleagues; we are all in this together. You included, professor Iceleaf."

She nodded her head, trying to look her most professional self and let him know she had understood his request. They had stoped at one of the shelves and her right hand had automaticly lifted itself to one of the torn bookspines. She looked at it and read: _Home Life and Social Habits of British Muggles_.

Somehow she must have shown her conserns, because the bearded and strangely dressed headmaster sat down on the deskstool and looked at her.

"Though you look very alike you mother I will not assume too much. How much has she told you?"

He put his hands in his lap, making him self comfortable. Both unsure of the conversation and how to conduct herself to her new employer, she tried to follow his example and sat down on the bed opposite him to make a calm impression and, maybe, have the feeling rubed of on her.

"I don't know really," she began. "I though all she told me of this 'Hogwarts' and 'magic' was, well ... stories. I mean, I remember them as stories, but I did belive them when I was a little girl. Silly really, but I actually remember waiting for my letter the days before I began school. My mother told me that I will have to go to 'muggle school' for some years before I could expect to recieve such letter."

She put on a bit of an embaressed face, smiled and shug her shoulders.

"But of course, that was before ... "

She tried to sound as if it didn't matter, that is was water under the bridge, but the sentence died out in the air between them and left things untold. The turn of a knife in her stomach as she brushed the subject made her silent. The headmaster only waited a moment longer before he nodded his head.

"Yes, I know of it. I am sorry. You mother was a bright witch and a loving person, but not even magic can make the pain of a loved one lost disappear."

The wrinkled face, with the remarkably sharp eyes that implied a much younger man, had a sombre expression as he looked at her. She felt that he knew much more about her than she had imagined. But she also knew that anything could happen in the world of magic so she didn't ask any questions. Not yet.

"Well, as the situation is a bit off the tracks, conserning professor Dellowberry's abrupt leave, I have concluded that some changes ought to be in place when it comes to Muggle Studies, especially as you are neither from Britan nor have any experience of magic. None educational experience, that is. But you have studied both pedagogy, history and religion at universital level, have you not?"

As their conversation came on to her qualifications, she straightened her back and nodded at every subject he mentioned.

"Yes, that's correct. I'm a fully educated teacher from the University of Pebblebridge. I brought my qualification papers and certificate. I also have words from all of my mentors that contribute to my practical education."

As she spoke she rose from the bed and opened the outer pocket of one of her bags. She handed him the documents and he took them as he stood up, but didn't look at them.

"This is hardly necessary, professor, but I am sure Minerva most willingly will want to have a look at them as she will be you nearest contact. I will have her contact you tomorrow about the new scedual and other changes that the two of you may agree on. And if you have any questions you are to turn to her."

"Not you, professor?"

Once again her mind slipped her lips and once again she felt utterly exposed to Dumbledore's gentle smile and comforting headnod.

"You may come to me at any time, professor Iceleaf, but I assure you that professor McGonagall is just as good as me in most departments. Often better when it comes to practical things, as a matter of fact."

While speking he crossed the floor towards the door. She followed him out to the corridor where he turned.

"Furthermore she is the one handleing the sceduals. A sharp mind when it comes to adjustment."

He seemed to wander off in his mind, but just as Eleanor was about to ask about professor McGonagall's subject he lifted his eyes and gave her a polite smile.

"Now, you must be tired from your journey. Have a good night sleep and Minerva will fill you in on the plans in the morning. Good night!"

Dumbledore shoock her hand again, quite fiercly to be as farewell, before he strolled down the hallway and left her at the door. She stood still, following him with her eyes as he started humming some unknown melody and turning at the next corner.

Struck, happy, scared. She felt it all as she closed the door and pressed her back at it. She couldn't really belive it. Not yet. Not even as she walked over the floor and stroke one of the beds four pillars. Nor when she opened the cage and let Zider out; whom emediatly started to explore the new enviroment. Not even as she pushed the door open to the bathroom and lifted her eyes to the live candles that was the only light in there. Not even than could she belive it. She did, how ever, belive it when she saw her own face in the oval mirror.

A young woman looked back at her. She had light brown hair falling free around a soft face. Soft, for it had no sharp features what so ever. The chin was round and put back, suffering a prominent overbite. The cheeks were on the brim of round, but the clear cheekbones saved her from looking chubby. The mouth had a plump feel to it too, except for the upper lip that was much thinner. And so the nose. It was tilted upwards, but was otherwise straight.

The big, blue eyes was the thing telling her that this was real, that this was the truth and reality; they were lined and marked by her long journey and by the sleepless night she had suffered the night before. If this had been a dream she'd looked fresh and perky with sparkling stars around her head.

As her day _had_ been very long she couldn't find the strenght to unpack her bags before going to bed. She only put Ziders box to order in tha bathroom and fed her a bowl of the dry catfood she had brought with her, made the bed (that was quite gigantic; she had to use two sheets to fully cover the mattress!) and crawled down under the covers. Zider joined her and finally they both fell asleep.


End file.
